


Faeranduil vs Reluvethel

by Acemindbreaker



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Aphasia, Apraxia, Augmentative and Alternative Communication, Bed-Wetting, Betrayal, Diapers, Elves, Forced Mental Regression, Gen, Incontinence, Mind Control, Princes & Princesses, Scat, Wetting, Wheelchairs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-11-04 11:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17897486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acemindbreaker/pseuds/Acemindbreaker
Summary: Faeranduil wants to be king, but his older brother Reluvethel is the heir. So he comes up with a plan to force Reluvethel to step down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A bunch of this story was posted to Daily Diapers, before the server malfunction killed it.
> 
> It's set in my and my brother's shared D&D setting, back during the waning years of the elven empire. The following is the World Anvil page for this setting:
> 
> https://www.worldanvil.com/w/dd-world-tyuqettina
> 
> Edit: I have no idea why this is marked complete. It is not complete yet.

Faeranduil was the second son of King Galaeron.

His position frustrated him greatly. When his father died or stepped down, his buffoon of a brother, Reluvethel, would take the position Faeranduil wanted most. And why? Purely because he was older, nothing more. Faeranduil was better in every way, as far as he was concerned – he was smarter, a better fighter, better at politics, better at planning ahead, and especially better at magic. But because his brother was older, he was the one who would get to rule. 

Faeranduil considered having his brother killed, but for all his jealousy, he really did care about Reluvethel. He didn't want his brother to die, he just wanted him out of his way. He'd talked to Reluvethel carefully about whether he'd ever consider stepping down, but his brother saw that as a weakness and a great dishonor. He made it clear that he'd only leave the throne if he was forced.

After much thought, and careful reading of the laws of succession, Faeranduil figured out a solution. If Reluvethel was deemed too ill to rule, Faeranduil would be his regent until he recovered. If he never recovered, Faeranduil would rule for the rest of their lives.

But Faeranduil couldn't use any of the existing spells. None of them met his needs – either too easily recognized, not permanent enough, or too dangerous to Reluvethel's health. The best he could find was the feeblemind spell, but everyone knew about that one, and though it was hard to break, they all knew how it could be broken. Reluvethel would be better within the day. No, he needed something a lot more subtle, gradual, and completely unknown. He needed to invent his own spell.

 

Reluvethel was worried.

His father was not a young man, and he knew it would be a matter of decades before Reluvethel would have to step into his father's shoes. It was what he'd prepared for all his life, but still, it was terrifying. What if he wasn't ready? What if he couldn't be a good ruler?

And most of all, he worried about his brother.

Reluvethel loved Faeranduil, but he could see that his brother was unhappy being the second son. Faeranduil loved power far too much. He loved to know that he was the one who made something happen, whether it be good or bad. And he especially loved when he could tell other people what to do.

Faeranduil had even asked Reluvethel about stepping down. Oh, he'd couched it in hypothetical terms, describing it in the context of his ongoing studies of the law, but Reluvethel saw through it. And for his brother, he might even have considered it, but for his people, he knew he had to decline Faeranduil's suggestion. His brother would not make a good ruler. He angered too easily, he didn't have a good grasp of economy or military, and his craving for power led him to do hurtful things sometimes.

If only Faeranduil could be happy as his brother and prince. But Reluvethel couldn't see him ever being satisfied in that position.

 

Finally, the first item was done. It looked like a fine chest, and inside, it was filled with padded, absorbent cloth undergarments.

Normally, such a gift would be a bizarre thing to give to a hale, healthy young elf, but just the night before, Faeranduil and Reluvethel had been out drinking, and Faeranduil had slipped a potion into Reluvethel's drink. The potion had greatly increased Reluvethel's urine production, and combined with the drinking, had led to an embarrassing loss of control on Reluvethel's part. They'd both had quite a laugh about it, and Faeranduil knew that Reluvethel would take the gift as a continuation of the joke. If he was lucky, once the effects began, Reluvethel would think not about his new gift, but rather his accident while partying.

Now, Faeranduil wrote a note for his gift, with a teasing mention of Reluvethel's accident. He signed the note with his arcane mark, sealed it, and stuck it to the box. And then he handed it to a servant, with orders to give it to his brother.

And then Faeranduil went back to work. This gift was a nice start, but by itself, it would do little to achieve his goals. He needed something far more drastic.

 

Reluvethel found the gift by his bedchamber, shortly before he went to bed. He could see his brother's seal on the note, and he opened it and chuckled. He opened the box, already knowing what he'd find inside. “Oh, Faeranduil, you tease.”

He went to bed in a good mood. Perhaps Faeranduil wasn't too upset about being the younger son, after all. If he could take time from his busy studies to commission a gift like this purely as a joke, he must have much affection for his brother. Reluvethel would have to think of a gift for Faeranduil in return – something suitably ridiculous.

When he awoke the next day, he was still pondering the question. He got up and used his enchanted chamber pot, and then his servants helped him to dress in his court robes. He'd have a busy day today, but he'd make time for a gift for his brother.

 

The next day was an intolerable wait for Faeranduil. He knew the effects of his gift would not emerge until at least 24 hours after his brother received it, and he knew that Reluvethel would likely hide the effects at first. But it was hard to be patient after so much work.

He busied himself with work on his next gift, as well as with suitable protections and a hiding place for his notes. It wouldn't do to have someone stumble upon those, now that Reluvethel would soon be showing the effects of his gift.

At suppertime, that evening, Faeranduil and Reluvethel spent the time together, laughing and joking about Faeranduil's gift and the night that had presumably inspired it. Faeranduil was relieved to see that his brother had taken the gift in the air intended, and showed no hint of suspicion.

That night, Faeranduil couldn't sleep. He lay awake, imagining his brother in his bed, settling down to sleep, unaware that Faeranduil's gift was already working within him. He would be in for a big surprise, tonight.

 

Shortly before dawn, Reluvethel dreamt. In his dream, he was in court, and he needed to use the privy, badly. But he dared not excuse himself, knowing that the count would assume it was intended as an insult. He was desperate, and then he remembered that he was wearing his brother's gift. He could relieve himself here, and no one would know.

But when he did, Reluvethel was surprised by the sensation. It was as if the undergarment could hold nothing at all – instead, the urine flowed down his legs freely.

He snapped awake, briefly confused, and then, to his horror, he realized that he was relieving himself in his bed. As soon as he realized it, he stopped, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

He got up and rang the bell for his servants. He wanted nothing more than to get back to bed, but he and his bed needed to be cleaned first, so he made them draw him a bath as they changed his sheets. He took them aside and warned them not to breathe a word of this to anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven court dress is like this but fancier:
> 
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/f1/74/9e/f1749e80a67172b7a9b98d018d02545a.gif

The next day, one of Faeranduil's servants took him aside after breakfast. He'd slipped the man a coin and asked to be notified of any gossip regarding his brother several nights ago. Now, the man notified him that Reluvethel's servants had been seen bringing him clean sheets in the middle of the night. No one knew why he'd needed new sheets, but speculation was running wild.

Faeranduil passed the man another coin and told him to try his best to discourage the rumour. He knew, of course, that nothing could really be done to stop it, but he had to seem the loyal brother. It would help to lessen suspicion on him.

Faeranduil busied himself the rest of the day finishing his next gift. He took breaks only for meals with his brother, where Reluvethel regaled him with tales of the famous battles he'd been studying and the strategies they'd used. Faeranduil looked carefully, but could see no signs of the rough night Reluvethel had apparently had. Oh, well. Soon, he would not be able to hide it.

That night, Faeranduil found a gift of his own waiting for him – a curative vial for venerial disease. He chuckled. Very funny, brother.

 

The next night, Reluvethel once again awoke to find that he'd started relieving himself in bed. He had yet another middle-of-the-night bath and change of sheets. As he bathed, he wondered why this was happening. He'd never had an accident before, other than the occasional drunken mistake. And now, he'd had two in as many nights, for no apparent reason.

He thought back to the accident with Faeranduil, that had prompted his brother to give him the gift of absorbent undergarments. Come to think of it, he had been far less drunk for that time than all the previous times. Before, his accidents had come from being too drunk to walk or to find a privy, but that time, he'd just felt the urge come upon him unexpectedly, when he was mostly coherent.

Was that the first sign? Perhaps he was ill somehow. He should probably seek out a healer if this continued.

For now, he just wanted to sleep. Taking no chances, he decided to take out his brother's gift. He put on the undergarment himself, too embarrassed to ask his servants, and went to bed. Despite the unfamiliar sensation around his loins, he was so tired that he fell asleep almost immediately.

The next morning, the garment was still clean. He removed it and hid it in his drawers, and headed out to face the day.

 

Faeranduil finished his second gift, a set of magical books, the next morning. He left it in his brother's room, with a note commenting on his brother's gift, insinuating that Reluvethel was too immature for the same gift.

When he did, he checked on his first gift, and found it missing an undergarment. Reluvethel must have removed one. Had he used it yet?

Faeranduil searched and found the undergarment in Reluvethel's drawer, clean. Had Reluvethel worn it? He couldn't tell. He knew that using the items would make the effect irreversible. He did not know if the spell required actually relieving oneself in the garment or simply wearing it. But still, Reluvethel had done something with the undergarment. Hopefully, soon he would both wear it and relieve himself in it.

Faeranduil returned the item where he found it, and hurried away before anyone could find him.

 

Reluvethel was reading history books in the library when he felt the urge to relieve himself. Absentmindedly, he relaxed, and then jolted from his reverie as he felt his pants grow wet. He stopped himself, rising to his feet and hurrying to the privy. To his horror, it took all his concentration to keep from wetting himself – even fumbling with the door was enough distraction to let his flow resume briefly.

By the time he'd made it to the privy, his pants were soaked. Fortunately, his tunic hid it all, and he made it to his room for a change without anyone suspecting his plight.

In his room, he was surprised to find a new gift from his brother. He chuckled at the note, then laughed even more as he unwrapped it to find children's books, like the ones he'd read when he was first learning to read. He set them aside and removed his pants, then paused as he considered his brother's first gift. Whatever his problem was, it was clearly getting worse. Perhaps, to be safe, he should wear the undergarments for now.

He took the one he'd worn before – it was still clean, after all. He put it on beneath his tunic, and then put on his pants, finding it an unexpectedly tight fit. The padded underclothes made him considerably larger in the behind than usual.

He took a moment to check himself in his mirror, and was relieved to find that though he could clearly feel his new clothing and see it bulge under his pants, no sign of it showed when his tunic was down. No one would suspect.

Several times that day, as he concentrated on things, his bladder once again began to release automatically. Each time, Reluvethel stopped it and finished in the privy, secure in the knowledge that his new undergarment caught what he leaked. In fact, it absorbed his urine so well, he could not even feel the wetness a few moments later. For this reason, and because he didn't know how long this problem would continue, he chose not to change his undergarments right away. He should make full use of this one before taking another from the box.

Discreetly, he also put in a call for his personal healer to visit with him the next day. If he was still experiencing control issues by then, he should get checked out thoroughly.

He also visited the privy for an entirely different need. As he emptied his bowels, he spared a moment to feel glad that his loss of control did not extend to that bodily function.

 

Faeranduil, meanwhile, started work on his next gift, dreaming of ruling while his brother received nursing. Of course, he would remain the loyal brother, arranging for his brother to receive the best care that his status could provide. But Reluvethel would never be able to rule, and Faeranduil would have the birthright denied him by his age.

As he worked, he wondered how Reluvethel was getting along. By his calculations, his first gift should be affecting Reluvethel by day now, and not simply by night.

Later, after he ate supper with his brother, he initiated a bout of playful sparring, which devolved into a wrestling match. During the match, he caught a glimpse under his brother's tunic, and saw the tell-tale bulge. His smile was a little bit wider for the rest of the evening.

 

That night, Reluvethel went to bed, wearing only his new undergarment. He slept better than he had the previous two nights.

The next morning, to his dismay, he awoke to a cold wetness. His absorbent underwear was completely saturated, and had leaked all over his bed.

He was even more dismayed by the realization that he had failed to awaken when he relieved himself. He had slept soundly, heedless of his nocturnal humiliation. While he had to admit he felt more rested, he couldn't help but see it as yet another sign of how his condition had worsened.

Once again, he had a morning bath, and instructed his servants to dispose of the soaked undergarment discreetly while they changed his sheets. Then he dismissed them, informing them that he would be dressing himself.

When he checked his brother's gift, he noticed that it still had the same number of absorbent undergarments as before. After he studied his spellbook for the morning, he paused to check it out magically – indeed, it was affected by a transmutation effect, and was that an enchantment effect? He wondered what it did, and did Faeranduil truly realize what he'd purchased? It wouldn't be the first time a merchant took advantage of a buyer by enchanting a product to seem more desirable.

Amused, Reluvethel dressed himself and went on with his day, his protective undergarment well-hidden beneath his clothes.

 

The next morning, Faeranduil received the rumour that his brother's servants had apparently washed not only his brother's sheets, but an undergarment designed to catch involuntary emission of bodily wastes. Not only that, but Reluvethel had insisted on dressing himself this morning. It would seem they had an answer to the mystery of the dirty sheets.

Faeranduil pretended to be furious at the idea of such a rumour circulating, and insisted that his servant do whatever he could to kill such undignified speculation about their future monarch. Inwardly, he was crowing with delight. Reluvethel had used his gift! Even if he were to give it away, the effects would remain. And Faeranduil doubted his brother would give up such a useful gift, not when it gave him the perfect excuse to hide his embarrassing new problem. Which meant that it would only get worse.

But his servant had another piece of news. Reluvethel had made an appointment with his personal healer. Would she detect the true cause of his problems?


	3. Chapter 3

Reluvethel attended court during the morning. In an episode shockingly reminiscent of his dream several nights before, he found himself in a meeting with one of the counts – Count Aolis of Elmys, the breadbasket of the Elven Empire – when his bladder began to let go.

He instinctively stopped his flow, then remembered his new undergarment. He couldn't leave now, and he knew from experience that he could no longer hold it in that long. So he simply let go, slowly filling his undergarment with moist urine as he listened to the Count complain about Elmys' taxes and their poor crop this year.

Afterwards, he considered whether he needed to change. But no, his undergarment seemed to be holding up to its task, and he wanted to get some lunch with his brother soon, and then put in some reading about the economics of Elmys before meeting with his healer, to form his own opinion about the Count's complaints.

 

At lunch with his brother, Faeranduil's thoughts kept slipping to his brother's underclothes. He'd worn Faeranduil's gift yesterday, he was probably wearing it today. Indeed, Faeranduil had been waiting by the privy when Reluvethel got out of court, and his brother had not showed up as he usually did, so he must have used the undergarment to relieve himself in court. Faeranduil wondered what his brother thought of the change. The idea that he could no longer control when he relieved himself, and didn't know why, secretly excited Faeranduil.

He gave no hint to his thoughts, and neither did Reluvethel. His brother instead asked him about tax laws, and Faeranduil happily shared what he knew about the rules for varying taxes based on varying income. He prodded his brother about the reasons for his questions, and Reluvethel admitted that he'd spent the morning with Count Aolis.

Faeranduil chuckled, imagining the dour Count, unaware that the prince in front of him was urinating on the spot. “Count Aolis? That man always complains about bad crops! To hear him talk, he's had bad crops every year in the past decade!”

 

After lunch, Reluvethel began to read. His brother was right, Elmys' crops were no worse this year than they'd been for a decade. But looking further back, he found that this decade was the worst in the past hundred years. What could be causing such problems?

Regretfully, he was out of time to research the question – in fact, he was already late. He got up and stretched, and his bladder automatically began to release. He stopped it and decided to visit the privy on the way to his healer, not wanting to risk overflowing his garment's capacities.

On the way, however, he ran into young miss Elanil of Reyna, one of the eligible noblewomen. The girl chattered to him about nonsense, clearly desperate to win his affections. In the process, she distracted him enough that he relieved himself entirely in his undergarment, and when he made it to the privy, he had nothing left.

Worse yet, he was now very late for his appointment. In fact, Reluvethel realized that he would have to cancel – he was due for sparring practice, and if he cancelled that, people would start to talk.

 

Faeranduil was delighted when he hear that Reluvethel had sent a servant, half an hour late, to cancel his appointment with his healer. He'd done right to send Miss Elanil of Reyna to accost his brother. Of course, Reluvethel had merely rescheduled for two days hence, but every day that Faeranduil bought was more time for his gifts to strip away at his brother.

And now, it was time to get back to work on Reluvethel's third gift, the one with the most dramatic impact so far. He'd regret giving up on their verbal sparring, but it would be well worth it, to take away his brother's ability to utter commands to his servants. To be safe, he added an extra effect to the gift, an immediate spell to block detection magic on Reluvethel. Hopefully, he'd take possession of it before he saw his healer.

 

After sparring, Reluvethel returned to the library to read, but found that he couldn't concentrate. He kept stumbling over words he should have known, such as depreciation and exemption. He found himself sounding them out to himself, completely breaking the flow of his reading. It took him far too long to get through a single book, and when he looked up, the sun was already setting.

As he walked back to his quarters, he felt his bladder release. This time, when he tried to stop the flow, he couldn't even slow it down. He stood there for several moments, focusing all of his attention on stopping the flow of urine from his body, but to no avail. It was as if what little control he'd still had was gone completely.

Dejected and exhausted, he headed to his bed. He stripped naked, changed his undergarment and gave the used one to his servants as he went to sleep.

 

Faeranduil worked into the night – now that Reluvethel was seeking medical attention, he had no time to lose. He finally fell asleep on his work table, and awoke to a servant gently shaking his shoulder. “Prince Faeranduil? Are you alright, Your Eminence?”

Faeranduil felt a rush of panic, and hastily covered his spellwork as he assured his servant that he was, indeed, completely fine. He sent the man out of the room so he could compose himself, and put his things away before heading to bed to catch what sleep he could. The only good thing about being the second son – he could sleep in if he liked.

 

Reluvethel slept soundly and awoke to find his undergarment soaked and his bed still dry. He changed into his day clothes, marvelling at the convenience of his self-replenishing supply of protective undergarments.

He spared a moment to consider his brother's other gift, and remembered Elanil telling him of her younger brother Theodemar, only 15 years old and just learning to read. He was one of those children with that new condition that had been popping up lately, who never slept, and his nursemaids were desperate for amusements to occupy him. Perhaps he would enjoy these books. Elanil would undoubtedly take it as a token of interest, which suited Reluvethel. Despite her unfortunate timing, he had enjoyed talking to her, and she was quite attractive. Once he'd sorted out his current problem, he might consider getting to know her better.

He went to breakfast only to find that his brother was still in bed. Shaking his head, he wondered at his brother's jealousy of him. Didn't he realize how nice it was to be able to sleep in now and then? Why would he want to give up his free time like that?

Reluvethel was distracted from his thoughts when his bladder let go. Once again, try as he might, Reluvethel could do nothing to slow the steady flow of his urine. It ended only when he was empty. His smile gone, Reluvethel finished his meal.

As soon as he got up, his lower torso grumbled, and he hurried off to the privy.

 

Faeranduil awoke shortly before lunch. He headed off to eat with his brother.

Reluvethel spent most of the meal good-naturedly teasing Faeranduil about sleeping in. “Must be nice to be able to lie about all morning.”

Faeranduil hid his anger at the comment. Did Reluvethel really think he could convince Faeranduil that being crown prince was a burden? Did he think his brother a fool?

Reluvethel suddenly trailed off mid-sentence, looking distracted by something. Faeranduil felt a chill as he realized his brother was probably relieving himself, right here and now. Wasn't that perfect? If Reluvethel wanted to sleep in so badly, well, he'd get his chance – as soon as it became clear that he was not fit to rule.

Faeranduil found himself wondering about his brother's reading. Was Reluvethel noticing any difficulties yet? Had he read the stories he'd been given yet? Faeranduil was so tempted to throw in a taunting comment, but he restrained himself. He dared not raise his brother's suspicion.

 

That afternoon, after sparring practice, Reluvethel visited the library again and found it a recipe for frustration. Yesterday he was stumbling over the occasional advanced word, now it seemed like every second word he had to sound out. He even found a few that he couldn't understand even when he sounded them out – they didn't sound like any actual words.

In a panic, he went to his room and took out his brother's second gift. Even with the simple text, he still needed to sound out many of the words, and found a couple that didn't even make sense. What was happening to him? It was one thing to find himself needing protective undergarments – that could be managed. But if he couldn't read, he would not be able to rule effectively. He'd be a failure to his father, and a failure to his people.

 

Faeranduil finished Reluvethel's third gift that evening. Unfortunately, the magic shaped its appearance in a way that didn't suit him, giving it a plaque claiming Reluvethel couldn't speak. If Reluvethel received a gift that claimed he couldn't speak, and then lost his ability to speak, it would be far too suspicious. So Faeranduil layered on an illusion spell, making the words there look like a smooth, blank plaque.

With that finished, he gave it to a servant to deliver in the night, then went to bed. As he lay down, he wondered when the 24 hours countdown began – was it from when he delivered the gift, or when it was discovered by his brother?

Oh, well. Either way, Reluvethel would soon lose something that no one could hide – his voice. How could he rule then?


	4. Chapter 4

When Reluvethel got out of bed the next morning, he immediately began to pass stool. He stopped it with effort, shocked. He'd nearly messed himself!

He hastily removed his undergarment and used his chamber pot, fearful of this new development. No one could tell when he relieved himself of urine in his protective undergarment. But his feces had a distinct odour to them. If he could not stop himself from having passing stool in his undergarment, surely people would smell it!

Once he was fully clothed, he turned his attention to the children's books. He bundled them up, and tried to write a note to Elanil explaining that these books were for her younger brother. As he did so, he was shocked to realize that he had the same struggles with writing as he did with reading. He realized that it was entirely possible that he could make noticeable mistakes in his writing, so he dared not give her the note. He must give this gift in person.

At the same time, he noticed a new gift from his brother. He didn't bother reading the note, and simply unwrapped it, finding a board covered in pictures labelled with words. At the bottom was the alphabet, and beneath that, a blank plaque. At a glance, he could make out all of the labels for the pictures – they were all extremely common words, as well as his name and the names of his father, mother (rest her soul), and brother.

He realized that he'd already spent enough time trying to write the note to Elanil – he dared not waste any more time on deciphering the purpose of this board. He left it in his room and headed off to court.

In court, he made the decision to decrease Count Aolis' taxes, dictating the recommendation to a scribe and signing with his seal. On impulse, he also dictated the note to Elanil, and pocketed it.

 

At lunch, Faeranduil decided he couldn't wait for his brother to let slip the signs of what was happening to him. He had to know if Reluvethel's reading was affected yet.

So he asked his brother what he thought of his third gift, and the note attached. Reluvethel's disguised panic as he fumbled for a convincing answer told Faeranduil all he needed to know. Reluvethel hadn't read his note.

So he pressed him about his board. Had he read that? Reluvethel did seem to know what the picture labels were. So it seemed his reading was weak, but not entirely lost.

Mid-conversation, Reluvethel abruptly excused himself to go to the privy. Faeranduil wondered what the hurry was – wasn't his brother wearing his protective undergarment? He should have no choice but to use it by now.

 

Reluvethel almost passed stool at lunch with his brother. This could not be dismissed. It was clear to Reluvethel that soon, his only privy would be his undergarments. As he made it to the privy, he wet himself, a sensation he was almost growing used to by now.

Reluvethel left nothing to chance this time, allowing himself only time to change his undergarment before arriving at his healer's office early for his appointment. When she invited him in and asked him what was wrong, he poured out his problems. She made him undress so she could see his undergarment, and then made him remove that too. She commented on its dryness and he said he'd just changed it.

As she was giving his private parts a physical exam, Reluvethel had his most humiliating experience yet. He began to relieve himself uncontrollably on the healer's hand. “I swear, I'm not meaning to!” He insisted, as she hastily covered his organ with a towel. She assured him that she understood, and called for a servant to help clean up the mess he'd just made.

Reluvethel put his undergarment back on with relief. He felt safer with it on, knowing that his lack of control was well-hidden.

With his mess cleared up, the healer brought out some reading material and told Reluvethel to do his best to read it. He found that he could easily make out only every second or third word, and all of the words that carried meaning had to be sounded out. He understood each word once he'd sounded it out, but he spent so much effort simply decoding the words that he couldn't concentrate on what the sentences meant. He stopped after the first paragraph, exhausted.

The healer examined him and found no evidence of any enchantment or illness. He arranged to meet with her again the next day, and she promised to do more research and gather more supplies to figure out what was going on.

 

Faeranduil's servant informed him that Reluvethel had seen the healer, and had even experienced a bladder accident while she was examining him, and they'd called for a servant to clean it up. Faeranduil's servant had answered the call. The idea amused Faeranduil greatly.

Fortunately for Faeranduil, his servant also lingered nearby after he finished cleaning, in case he was needed further, and had heard every word of their discussion afterwards. He reported that the crown prince could barely read a single paragraph of writing, and that the healer could not find any cause, and ruled out an enchantment.

It had worked! Whatever Reluvethel needed to do to claim ownership of the third gift, he had clearly done so, and Faeranduil's nondetection rider effect had taken effect immediately. It was no surprise that the healer lacked the skill to overcome it – Faeranduil was one of the foremost casters in the land. And this also meant that sometime tomorrow, Reluvethel's speech would start to decline.

 

By the time Reluvethel went to his quarters after his meeting with the healer, he found that his reading had declined further. When he looked at the board of pictures and words his brother gave him, the only words he could make out without effort were his own name and those of his family.

The idea terrified him, and he looked at the children's books he'd also received. He couldn't recognize any of the words, though he could still sound them out with effort. It took him a long time to make out a single simple sentence.

Regretfully, he attached the note he could no longer read, closing it with his seal, and gave it to a servant to deliver to Elanil's family.

 

Faeranduil was hard at work on his next gift. He found that with each one, making the next grew easier. He was getting good at this.

Once he was regent, he should order some top-secret experiments to figure out exactly how these gifts worked. It bothered him that he wasn't sure what exactly counted as using the gifts, or what would happen if the gifts were re-gifted, or what exactly marked the receipt of the gifts and beginning of the spell effects.

But first, he needed to gain power. And so, unanswered questions or not, he needed to get his brother affected by his gifts.

This time, he was more careful. As soon as his eyelids began to droop, he put away all of his work and went to bed.

 

That night, Reluvethel awoke abruptly in the middle of the night when his bowels began to move. He immediately clenched and got out to use his chamber pot, but even so, his wet undergarment had a stain in it when he removed it. He threw it aside and put on a new one before returning to his bed.

But sleep didn't come easily. As Reluvethel lay in bed, he wondered why this was happening to him. Was it an enchantment or an illness? What manner of illness could cause such a unique progression?

He was tempted to go to the library, searching through books for the answer to his problem, but he could no longer read those books. To his frustration, his only chance lay with his healer's help. He couldn't even attempt his own spellwork. His spellbook, which he'd studied only sporadically when his busy schedule allowed, was now useless to him.

As if to punctuate his despair, his bladder chose that moment to relieve itself.


	5. Chapter 5

Faeranduil met his brother for breakfast the next day, and Reluvethel's greeting took him by surprise. “Faewanduil! Good mowning, bwothew!”

As they ate breakfast and talked, Reluvethel seemed unaware of his new speech impediment. Faeranduil didn't point it out, but he felt a frisson of delight whenever Reluvethel said a word containing the 'r' sound. It occurred to him that his brother couldn't even pronounce his own name correctly, now.

Then, Reluvethel said something that jolted Faeranduil out of his enjoyment. He reported that in an overture to woo the maiden Elanil, he'd re-gifted Faeranduil's second gift to her younger brother.

How old was the boy? Reluvethel was happy to answer that question – 15, and barely learning to read. Faeranduil felt a flash of relief. The gift's effects should be far less obvious in such a young child. It had been close to 4 days so far, and Reluvethel was still above the reading level that Theodemar likely was starting at. If his calculations were correct, the gift would first strip the boy's future reading potential, and only then would it strip his current capabilities.

A bigger concern was the effect on Reluvethel. Had he read the books before giving them away? If he had, the effect should remain at its current level – otherwise, his reading would begin to recover. Faeranduil probed Reluvethel about the contents of each story, and felt relieved when his brother accurately reported many details from several stories. Good, he had read them. Now, his reading would remain impaired.

 

There was something odd about Faeranduil during breakfast. He seemed oddly surprised when Reluvethel greeted him, and then a little too happy during their conversation. And when Reluvethel described his gift for Elanil's brother, Faeranduil seemed alarmed, and proceeded to ask a lot of questions about Elanil's brother and what Reluvethel thought of the gifts.

A worrying thought occurred to him. Had Faeranduil hidden a joke in the lines of the books, something that a child shouldn't be reading? Reluvethel thought back to when he'd first read the books – even then, he hadn't been able to make out everything they said. He could have missed something.

He brooded over it as he went to the privy before court to empty his bowels in advance.

In court, however, he was distracted by something else. Whenever he spoke, he noticed a mixture of odd reactions in his listeners – tension, discomfort and barely-concealed amusement. He finally took his scribe aside between meetings and demanded to know what was so funny about his speech. The man's answer surprised him.

“You're saying 'w' in place of 'r'.” He informed the prince.

Reluvethel tried to say the sound in question, and realized suddenly that his scribe was right. Without even noticing, he'd been slurring that sound all morning. Even now, concentrating carefully on his speech, he couldn't get the sound to come out properly.

 

Faeranduil took a moment to check in with Elanil, who was raving about his brother's gift to her brother. She reported happily that she'd read one of the books to young Theodemar, and gotten his agreement to read the next one with her help.

Faeranduil worried. Technically, the books were Theodemar's, and should be keyed to him. But Elanil, too, was using them. If they began to affect her, she would notice quickly, and the coincidence of two people at court developing reading difficulties after receiving the same books would be hard to ignore.

Faeranduil decided to make her a gift of his own – a protective charm that blocked enchantment effects. He set to work on it immediately, taking a break only for lunch with his brother.

 

At lunch, Reluvethel confronted his brother about his new speech impediment, demanding to know why his brother hadn't mentioned it. Faeranduil admitted to noticing it, but insisted he'd simply chalked it up to Reluvethel being tired, and didn't want to embarrass his brother.

Reluvethel was about to pursue the question when his bowels decided to interrupt. He abruptly left, struggling to hold in his bowel movement, but to no avail. His bowels emptied completely before he'd made it out of the room.

Shocked, Reluvethel headed to his bedchamber to change. On the way, his bladder decided to empty as well.

 

Faeranduil didn't pursue the question of his brother's abrupt departure from their table. The sudden smell as he'd hurried away had answered that – clearly, both of his brother's bodily functions were being affected by his first gift, and the undergarment, despite catching the mess, was not up to the task of disguising the smell.

In any case, Faeranduil was relieved to find that his brother had dropped the subject of his new speech impediment. The way his brother had been questioning him made him uncomfortable. Did Reluvethel suspect anything?

Faeranduil impulsively suggested that they have a party tomorrow night – after all, it had been awhile. Reluvethel agreed, seeming excited by the thought. After all the stress he'd been under lately, a party no doubt sounded very welcome.

 

Reluvethel visited his healer again that afternoon. She was very concerned to hear of both his bowel accidents and his new speech impediment, and spent some time trying to coach him to say the 'r' sound, to no avail. It was as if his mouth simply couldn't move that way anymore.

There was one piece of good news, however. His reading hadn't improved, but it had also not worsened since the day before. She could make no predictions, but it was possible his decline in that area had stopped, or at least slowed down.

However, she agreed with Reluvethel's sentiment that it was likely he would soon lose all control over his bowel movements. She suggested he make use of a spell to hide the scent if needed, and he reminded her that he could no longer prepare spells from his spellbook due to his reading difficulties. Realization dawned, and she suggested he commission a magic item with that effect.

 

Faeranduil finished the gift for Elanil – a necklace with a protection spell that also stopped charms and compulsions. He'd stolen a copy of his brother's seal months ago, so he wrote a note pretending to be Reluvethel and sealed it with the crown prince's seal, then gave it to a servant to deliver to Elanil's family quarters.

With that done, he set to work preparing the party with his brother. He'd work on Reluvethel's next gift tomorrow. With his nondetection spell holding, he could afford to wait for a bit.

 

The next morning, Reluvethel awoke to a strange, squishy sensation around his nether regions. As he shook off the fog of sleep, he noticed a foul odor, and realized he must have emptied his bowels in his sleep.

Disturbed, Reluvethel cleaned up and got dressed, then ordered a servant to send his order for a magic ring of the type his healer had suggested.

At breakfast, as he and his brother talked about the party tonight, he interrupted the conversation to ask Faeranduil if he noticed any changes in Reluvethel's speech. Faeranduil admitted that Reluvethel's pronunciation had declined – he was now mispronouncing several different sounds. When Reluvethel said his own name, to test, Faeranduil pointed out that he'd just called himself “Wewuvefew.”

Reluctantly, Reluvethel decided to cancel his attendance at court, citing ill health. It was better to keep them wondering than to show his weakness in public view.

Still, that left him with very little to do all morning. He decided to go outside and practice with his two swords alone.

 

Faeranduil was delighted to hear that his brother had cancelled his attendance at court. He eagerly took his brother's place, and felt a thrill whenever he made a decision of behalf of his family.

Countess Arnarra of Petran asked for more military aid to defend their borders against the incursions of hobgoblins, which she said were on the rise. Faeranduil didn't see the need – hobgoblins always attacked Petran, and Petran had no trouble holding them off – so he denied her request. He could tell she was angry, but his status forced her to meekly accept that decision.

Her only concession to her displeasure with him was to ask after his brother's health and when he would be fit to resume his duties. Her question angered Faeranduil, but he hid it well as he told her that his brother's illness was a private matter and Faeranduil could not discuss it with her.

 

Reluvethel's exercise was cut short when his bladder and bowels simultaneously let loose. He paused and tensed up, but as he'd feared, he'd lost all semblance of control over his bodily functions. All he could do was waddle back to his quarters to clean up.

As he was coming back out, he ran into Elanil unexpectedly. She wore a necklace, and thanked him for it, claiming it was a gift from him. Reluvethel nodded in appreciation, afraid to speak for fear of embarrassing himself with his speech impediment, and restricted himself to murmurs of acknowledgement as she went on to talk about the books he'd given her and how much she enjoyed reading them to and with her younger brother.

From her description of young Theodemar's abilities, Reluvethel was depressed to realize that the boy's reading skills were not far off from his own. If he couldn't find a solution to his problem, Theodemar might soon be reading to his brother-in-law.

Finally, Reluvethel had grown tired of conversation, and he gently told Elanil that he was unwell and needed to rest. Elanil looked surprised and, to his embarrassment, asked him to repeat himself. He explained that his illness was affecting his speech as well, and she nodded in understanding and wished him a swift recovery before leaving.

Reluvethel returned to his quarters, depressed, and lay staring at the ceiling for awhile. Then, frustrated, he got up and decided to take one of his steeds out for a ride.

 

Faeranduil was in his element. As he presided in court, he pretended to himself that he was already regent, his brother nearly forgotten as he, Faeranduil, ruled. That shepherd accused of stealing from his neighbor's flock? Guilty. The merchant who wanted her competitor forbidden from selling the same kind of textiles she produced? Approved. Faeranduil made the rules. He was in charge. And there was nothing anyone could do about it.

But the illusion was marred whenever people offered him well-wishes for his brother. He accepted them graciously, but inwardly, he seethed. Each mention of his brother seemed to him a reminder that they saw Reluvethel as the true crown prince – he was only the younger brother, stepping in temporarily while his brother was ill.

Little did they know that his brother would never again preside over court.

 

At the paddock, he received a friendly greeting from Greymane, who whickered and gently nibbled at his clothes. He stroked the horse on the side of his neck, then offered him one of the horse treats. He was a sweet horse, gentle and calm and easy to control, but he wasn’t the horse Reluvethel was planning to ride. So, when he’d finished eating the treat from his hand, Reluvethel went on to Swiftfeet.

Now, Swiftfeet was a bit of a temperamental horse. He greeted Reluvethel nicely enough, and readily accepted a treat, but as soon as Reluvethel opened the stall door and slipped the guide rope on him, his ears flickered in annoyance. He balked as Reluvethel led him out, and shook his head the first time Reluvethel tried to put the halter on. Reluvethel waited a few moments, then tried again, and rewarded the horse for his cooperation with another treat. Saddling him up was a challenge, too, with Swiftfeet taking a deep breath before Reluvethel tightened his girth belt, so Reluvethel kneed him in the stomach and tightened again when the horse exhaled.

Swiftfeet was a new purchase, only a few months ago, and Reluvethel was still building a relationship with him. But so far, the young stallion showed promise—he was one of the fastest and most agile horses Reluvethel had the pleasure of riding. Reluvethel picked up his bow and slung the quiver over his back, then led Swiftfeet out to the mounted archery practice ring.

Once they were out, Swiftfeet tried to lower his head in preparation to buck, but Reluvethel was wise to that trick. Next, he tried to head for the trees, but Reluvethel turned his head, so he stopped. He tried to go for the fence, next, but Reluvethel was ready for that trick, too. Once he’d finally convinced Swiftfeet that he was in control, he took the horse into the ring.

Swiftfeet’s speed made accuracy more of a challenge, which Reluvethel appreciated—on Greymane, the course was almost too easy, and he’d have had to ask one of the servants to throw a ring for him to shoot just to get a challenge. But Swiftfeet didn’t make it so easy on him, and he missed the targets as often as he hit.

When he was finished, he groomed Swiftfeet, cleaning the sweat from his hair. Swiftfeet was better behaved now, the exercise having calmed him down nicely.


	6. Chapter 6

Reluvethel was panting with effort by the time he stopped for lunch, but he had to admit, the exertion had lifted his mood. He talked with his brother about court, and noticed just how happy his brother seemed – once he'd sorted this problem out, he'd have to see about letting Faeranduil take over some of his court duties on a regular basis, if he liked it so much. He suggested as much to Faeranduil, who laughed and agreed that he would appreciate that.

Faeranduil had to ask Reluvethel to repeat himself occasionally, and each time, it was an unwelcome reminder of his speech impediment. But Reluvethel carefully avoided sharing the fear that his speech problems provoked – that his strange affliction would leave him trapped in his own mind, unable to share his thoughts with others.

Then, suddenly, another unwelcome reminder hit him, as his bowels abruptly let go of their contents. The foul smell was immediately obvious, and Reluvethel knew there was no chance his brother had missed it.

But Faeranduil simply muttered a couple spell words and gave a flourish, and the smell vanished. He smiled at his brother and continued talking, while Reluvethel did his best to ignore the squelching sensation in his undergarment.

 

Faeranduil's talk with his brother erased his lingering annoyance from the questions people kept asking. Reluvethel's speech was deteriorating, and he even had a bowel accident right there at the table while they ate.

Faeranduil probably should have used his spell to clean the mess rather than just disguising the smell, but he wanted to pretend he'd mistaken it for passing gas. And, to be honest, he'd enjoyed the discomfort on Reluvethel's face. Especially after his brother's casual mention of returning to court, and 'letting' Faeranduil attend in his place sometimes. He would soon learn his place, Faeranduil assured himself.

After lunch, Faeranduil put in some work towards making the next gift, and then finished the preparations for the party tonight. It would probably be one of their last parties like this, so he must make it a good one. A fitting send-off for his brother the crown prince.

Reluvethel's healer was quite concerned by the progression of his speech impediment. She ran him through some tests, determining exactly which sounds he'd lost, and then re-tested his reading and writing skills, which were still holding steady. Then, she asked for and received his permission to consult with several other healers about his case.

After that, it was time for Reluvethel to get ready for the party with his brother. He resolved to drink plenty of alcohol and stop worrying about his problems for one night. He changed his absorbent undergarment, dressed in his fancy clothes, and headed out.

 

When Reluvethel arrived at the party, Faeranduil greeted him warmly. The two brothers hugged, and then Reluvethel asked for drinks, and Faeranduil immediately flagged a servant.

As the party progressed, Reluvethel grew drunker and drunker. His drunken slurring, combined with his existing speech impediment, rendered him virtually incomprehensible as he began to rant about the bizarre affliction that had struck him so inexplicably. “Am piffin' in my panf wi' now.” He declared miserably, at which point, Faeranduil decided his brother was ready for bed.

He accompanied his brother as several servants helped the crown prince to his rooms. When they helped him to undress, they discovered that his absorbent undergarment had begun to leak into his pants – Reluvethel had been telling the truth in his drunken declaration. As they removed his undergarment, Faeranduil excused himself and headed off to his own bed.

 

Reluvethel awoke the next morning with a headache, and a burning pain in his nether regions. He rolled over in bed, feeling the wetness and squelching of his undergarment, and found a hangover cure potion on his bedside table. He drank it and then groaned in disgust as he thought of the night before. He could barely remember what he'd done, but he did recall loudly announcing that he was relieving himself in his pants. Hopefully, no one remembered what a fool of himself he'd made.

As he cleaned himself up, he found that he'd both wet and soiled his undergarment, and the material against his skin had caused a rash. He'd have to ask the healer for advice on that.

When his servant arrived to help him get ready, he asked the man about the ring he'd commissioned, and got a blank look in response. He repeated himself several times, and then finally indicated his rings and mimed getting a new one. Comprehension dawned and the man told him that the ring would be ready tomorrow.

He nodded and headed out for breakfast. By tomorrow, he probably couldn't even ask about it anymore.

 

On the way to breakfast, Faeranduil overheard servants gossiping.

“And the prince said: 'It my mawib wing weaty? Teh one I bommitont?'” Reluvethel's personal servant repeated, prompting peals of laughter from the others.

Faeranduil went off on them, lecturing them angrily on the impropriety of gossiping about their crown prince, and then dismissed them from their jobs, ordering them to leave before he changed his mind and had them executed for their insult to his brother.

At breakfast, Faeranduil could barely understand anything his brother said. Still, when he told his brother what he'd overheard, Reluvethel was clearly shocked and hurt. Faeranduil rushed to comfort him and assured him that he'd find a far more trustworthy replacement. He suggested the servant he'd been using to spy on Reluvethel, and the dejected crown prince agreed.

 

After the miserable start to his day, Reluvethel had no interest in interacting with anyone else. First, he could barely make himself understood to his own servant, and then the faithless man decided to mock his speech behind his back. And at breakfast, though his brother was sympathetic, he could tell that Faeranduil had great difficulty understanding Reluvethel as well. He'd resorted to mostly nods and brief statements – anything complicated was too much effort to convey.

He headed out to exercise, avoiding eye contact. But even his exercise was interrupted when his bowels released, and he headed back to his room to clean up.

As he was putting his new undergarment on, he heard a knock on his door. He opened it to find an unfamiliar servant, holding a note with his brother's seal on it. “Your brother sent me.” He said, handing over the note. “He informed me that you were in need of a new bedservant.”

Reluvethel did his best to interview the man, but the servant struggled a great deal in understanding Reluvethel's speech. Finally, the prince had an idea, and pulled out his brother's third gift. He worked slowly, decoding words until he found the right one, and then pointing to it. When he couldn't find the word, he tried to write it with the alphabet. The servant read each word aloud as he pointed. “You do what F-O-R for Faeranduil?”

He explained that he'd been a cleaning man working primarily in Faeranduil's wing, and had overheard some gossip about Reluvethel's illness and reported it to Faeranduil, and did his best to discourage the gossip from spreading further. Reluvethel was humiliated to learn that the gossip had started the first night he wet his bed, with rumours about his servants changing his sheets in the middle of the night.

Still, it was good that his brother had been looking out for him, and he was impressed with this man's honesty and patience. Reluvethel shook his hand to tell him that he was hired.


	7. Chapter 7

Faeranduil was glad to hear, shortly before lunch, that his man had been hired by his brother. But he was even happier when he heard how Reluvethel had communicated with him during his job interview. Surely, that counted as using the third gift, and meant that its effects would now be permanent.

At lunchtime, Faeranduil met with his brother, and was even more delighted to see that Reluvethel had brought his communication board along. Reluvethel did have some awkward questions for Faeranduil about why he'd given him the board in the first place.

In response, Faeranduil asked if Reluvethel had read his note, and his brother replied by indicating the image for “can't”. Faeranduil asked if that meant he couldn't read it, and his brother nodded dejectedly. So Faeranduil told him that the board had been intended as a gift for his future children, teasing him about Elanil. It was only coincidence that it turned out to be useful for Reluvethel himself.

 

Coincidence. Reluvethel mused over that as he went to his appointment with his healer. There seemed to be a lot of coincidence about this illness. First, his brother gave him protective undergarments, with no reason to suspect Reluvethel would wind up using them exclusively to relieve himself. Then, he gave Reluvethel books, which he soon lost the ability to read. And now, he gave him a picture word board, which became unexpectedly useful when Reluvethel's speech declined.

His healer was very concerned by the decline in his speech, and curious about the communication board he was using, especially once he managed to convey that Faeranduil had given it to him before his speech declined. She asked to take a closer look at it, and he gave it to her. She cast detection magic on it, but it registered as nonmagical, so she handed it back and concluded that it really was coincidence.

It had to be coincidence.

 

Faeranduil finished Reluvethel's next gift that afternoon, and decided to give it in person. He handed Reluvethel the package of books and told him that they were a collection of depictions of ordinary segments of Reluvethel life before this happened, so that if they couldn't find a cure, he could always remember how things were.

Reluvethel hesitated for a moment, and then accepted the gift. He unwrapped it to find what looked like books, each showing drawings of him doing everyday tasks. In one, he was eating a meal with his brother; in another, he was getting dressed – wearing ordinary undergarments, not the protective ones; in another, he was using the privy – he hadn't even visited the privy in a couple days; and there was one of him at sparring practice, and a few others.

He raised his brow at his brother, holding up the book about the privy, and Faeranduil blushed. “The spell chose what scenes to show, not me.”

“'At pew?” He asked.

Faeranduil claimed it was a spell he'd invented. Reluvethel nodded, smiling. He hugged the books to himself and thanked his brother.

 

Reluvethel returned to his room to change his undergarment. The healer had given him a cream for the rash, telling him to put it on every time he changed. He slathered it on liberally, grimacing at the slimy feeling, and then put his new undergarment on and headed out to practice combat some more. One good thing about this whole mess – he was getting in a lot better shape. He worked through some of the standard dual-wielding forms, and then switched to sword and board.

As he was practising, his sparring instructor came up to him and started offering advice. Gratefully, Reluvethel accepted his help. The man made no mention of Reluvethel's condition, offered no sympathy or concern, but also did nothing to require Reluvethel to speak.

The prince could not have expressed how grateful he felt to the man, even if he'd had understandable speech.

 

The one bad thing about taking over court is that Faeranduil had far less time to work on his gifts. And time was running out – soon, King Galaeron would come home from his tour of the kingdom.

Faeranduil needed to make sure Reluvethel couldn't tell his father about the gifts – who he'd got them from, and in what order – or else his father would surely figure it out. Reluvethel always wanted to think the best of his brother. Galaeron was a lot more cynical by nature.

Which meant that he needed to finish the next gift as soon as possible and give it to his brother. So, even knowing that he'd have to get up early for court and would feel exhausted, Faeranduil decided that he must stay up late to work on it.

 

Reluvethel awoke to a wet undergarment, and then moved his bowels as he was getting up. He cleaned himself up, put on more cream, and got dressed.

When he was finished, his servant came in and gave him a ring, explaining that it was the anti-scent charm Reluvethel had asked for. Finally! Reluvethel put it on and headed out.

At breakfast, his brother looked exhausted and drank more wakeleaf tea than usual. Reluvethel tried to tease him about whether he wished he could sleep in, but Faeranduil didn't understand him, so he gave up.

 

Reluvethel took one look at his brother and smiled. “It oo put teep im? Pooh Paematuih, to ti-ed.”

Faeranduil pretended not to understand, and Reluvethel looked over his board and then gave up. So he wanted to tease Faeranduil? Well, the joke was on him! He could barely even talk!

And as for his newest gift, Reluvethel should be noticing the effect later this afternoon.

 

After breakfast, Faeranduil went to court, and was miserable and exhausted there. He found himself getting annoyed more easily with the petitioners, and having more trouble focusing on what they said.

He ate a quick lunch on the go and decided to get a nap, telling his servant to wake him in three hours.

 

Reluvethel didn't see his brother at lunch – no doubt Faeranduil was grabbing the opportunity for a nap in his spare time. He wondered what his brother had been doing that kept him up late, but he didn't want to go through the struggle of asking.

His healer told him that his speech had deteriorated further. He could now only say three different consonants.

On the good side, he was getting faster using his communication board. He could recognize about half of the pictures on sight, no longer needing to struggle through reading the captions. But he was still finding it frustrating – so much of what he wanted to say wasn't on the board, and when he tried to spell it out on the alphabet, he often misspelled it so badly that the other person couldn't figure it out.

The healer was still no further on finding a treatment, though she was now certain that it was a spell, or possibly several spells, doing this to him.

 

When Faeranduil's servant shook him awake, the prince felt like strangling the man. He growled as he got up, then apologized as he saw the man's frightened face. He sent the man away, drank another wakeleaf tea and went back to work.

 

Reluvethel went out sparring with his instructor that afternoon. The practice started out well, but halfway through, Reluvethel began to mess up moves – moves he'd done correctly only minutes earlier. When he tried to do a standard practice sequence, he messed up the order and got several moves wrong.

He threw his sword down and shook his head, filled with despair. “I'm losing this too.” He declared. He wasn't sure how clear his speech was, but evidently his instructor understood. He sat beside Reluvethel and told him that the healers would find a solution, he felt sure of it. And if Reluvethel wanted to try, he'd be patient and train him at whatever level he was at. Surely, practice would slow the decline.

Emboldened, Reluvethel agreed. They went back to work, and started by figuring out where Reluvethel was at, now. They soon found that he hadn't lost everything – he could still do many of the less advanced practice sequences, but he'd fallen years behind where he'd once been.

After his practice, Reluvethel had an idea. What if he got training to help with his other areas of decline? With some effort, he explained the idea to his sparring instructor, who agreed to set him up with a speech trainer and reading instructor the next day.


	8. Chapter 8

Faeranduil got a report from his servant that Reluvethel's sparring practice had run into an unexpected snag. Apparently, Reluvethel was forgetting how to fight. Faeranduil smiled inwardly as he thanked his man for the news, paying him a coin.

And then he went back to work. He worked well into the night, finishing his gift in the early hours of the morning. He gave it to a servant to deliver, and then finally went to bed.

 

The next morning, Reluvethel found a new gift – a board with slots and pictures that fit into the slots, depicting a bunch of locations in the castle. He fiddled with it, sliding pieces in and out, and thought about the previous day. He'd abruptly lost several years of training in a moment. Clearly, a spell. The day after his brother had given him a set of books depicting familiar everyday activities, including a picture of him at sparring practice.

He looked back at his new gift with a chill. What would he lose next? And was his brother involved in some way?

At breakfast, Faeranduil once again seemed tired and drank lots of wakeleaf tea. Reluvethel looked his brother over thoughtfully. What was he staying up late for? Could it be that he needed more time to work on his spellwork? He'd mentioned making the second-latest gift with a spell...

One he'd invented. Maybe one that had gone wrong!

 

Reluvethel's speech had gotten worse again. He seemed to have completely stopped using consonants altogether in his speech. It made him pretty much completely incomprehensible, and sounded very amusing. Faeranduil's own name was now 'Aea-ui', apparently. Despite his exhaustion, Faeranduil noticed and felt thrilled.

“Uh ai a-ai?” Reluvethel said teasingly as Faeranduil poured his wakeleaf tea.

“Sorry, what?” Faeranduil asked. Reluvethel waved his hand, indicating it wasn't important, his smile gone.

Faeranduil smiled and started talking politics to distract his brother. Reluvethel was quiet and thoughtful during the conversation, saying as little as possible. Faeranduil actually found himself missing the brotherly banter they used to do. This new Reluvethel had to work so hard to say anything that he didn't bother a lot of the time.

But it was worth it. Faeranduil should have been the heir. If Reluvethel had been willing to step down, he wouldn't have had to do this.

 

Reluvethel met with the reading instructor after breakfast. It was a bit tricky to assess Reluvethel's reading, the instructor admitted, because his speech was so poor. But the instructor had decided to try focusing on getting Reluvethel to point to words that he said, as well as writing.

He first asked Reluvethel to match and write nonsense words, and Reluvethel did well. Apparently, this meant that his understanding of how to translate letters into sounds was fine.

Where the problem arose was in his recognition of familiar written words. Before, when he read, he seldom needed to sound out a word, because he knew so many words on sight. But now, with the exception of his own name and those of his family, Reluvethel couldn't recognize any words on sight. He had to stop and sound out every word, and the words with irregular spellings would confuse him.

Based on this, the instructor gave him a set of magical talking cards. Each card had a word written on it, and tapping the word would activate the spell and make the card speak it aloud. He encouraged Reluvethel to practice recognizing the words on these cards, and copying them out.

Looking them over, Reluvethel could also see another potential use for them. These cards had several words his communication board didn't have. And the communication board couldn't speak, so his partner had to look at it to understand him. Reluvethel began to pick out cards, then tapped them in order. “I can say with this.”

The instructor was surprised – apparently that use hadn't occurred to him.

 

Faeranduil sat through court half-asleep, barely paying attention to the petitioners. Why did these whiny people have to demand so much? Why couldn't they just be happy with their lot, and stop pestering him for every missing goat?

At lunch, he was surprised to find his brother carrying around talking magical cards. Reluvethel tried to explain where he got them, but without much luck. Apparently some man had given them to him for some purpose that Faeranduil couldn't make out, and Reluvethel had said he could talk with them as well. Oh, well. Reluvethel was excited about it. Too bad his latest gift would take that away.

Just then, he noticed a flicker of expression on Reluvethel's face, and wondered if his brother was having a bowel movement. If he was, his new ring was doing it's job well.

 

Reluvethel went back to his room after lunch to change. Fortunately, the healer's cream worked quite well, and the itchy redness was nearly all gone.

Then, he went to meet his speech trainer.

This session was much less exciting than his reading instruction session. His speech trainer tried to get him to repeat after her, and talked him through exactly how to hold his mouth, but nothing helped. He'd completely lost the ability to make any consonants. He could make a humming 'mmm' sound and a popping sound like a 'p', but as soon as he tried to combine either with a vowel, he'd find himself making only the vowel sound.

Seeing that he was getting frustrated, she offered him a break. He asked her if she could read a book to him from the library – he was getting really bored without being able to read. Soon, she was reading pieces of history to him, while periodically prompting him to try to say words from the book for her.

 

Faeranduil had a nap after lunch.

 

At the meeting with his healer, Reluvethel used his cards and communication board to try to tell the healer that he figured Faeranduil had cast a spell that went wrong. She didn't understand, no matter how much he tried to explain it. He finally broke down into tears, frustrated and scared. What if they never figured it out?

She patted him on the back soothingly, reassuring him that they would figure it out. And the king would be coming back soon, surely he could help.

Afterwards, Reluvethel went out for a ride. He wouldn’t try to do any archery, he’d decided, he’d just focus on riding. He got Swiftfeet ready, and then leapt up on his back. Swiftfeet ducked his head and Reluvethel froze. What did that mean? He was pretty sure that meant something, something bad...

Swiftfeet bucked, and Reluvethel went flying off of his back. For a moment, he felt weightless, and then he slammed into the ground.

“My prince! Are you OK?”

Reluvethel groaned and rolled over to see his sparring instructor hurrying to his side. “Uhh.” He said as he sat up, grimacing. He was covered head-to-toe in mud and dung, and he was pretty sure he’d have bruises, but he was fine. He looked to Swiftfeet, frolicking in the pasture with his saddle hanging upside down, nimbly avoiding the stable hands trying to round him up. Reluvethel sighed.

“Are you injured?” The sparring instructor asked. Reluvethel shook his head. “I’ll call someone to prepare you a bath. Next time, I recommend getting someone to help if you plan to ride. With your decline, it’s important not to take any risks.”

Reluvethel nodded, and headed off to have his bath.

 

The next morning, Faeranduil awoke well-rested and much happier. He got ready and headed off to eat breakfast with his brother, whose speech now consisted of a single sound – 'aah'.

Court, too, went well. He found the petitioners' petty squabbles a lot more amusing when he wasn't exhausted. And most of the court had stopped asking after Reluvethel.

The most interesting event was a report from the magical reagents acquisitions order that the frequency of dragon sightings in Petran. Wasn't that the same place that claimed to be having more difficulty with hobgoblins? Countess Arnarra had wanted more troops.

Well, he supposed she'd be getting them, in a way. He approved the order for more acquisitions teams to be deployed to Petran.

 

Reluvethel found his new talking cards useful for communication, but he didn't see much improvement in his practice reading them. Especially the ones with irregular spelling – it seemed like no matter how much he practised, when he re-shuffled the deck and came across that card again, he was lost.

At lunchtime, his brother started talking to him about court, and a 'magical something something team' telling him about an increase in dragon sightings. Reluvethel asked him what he'd said, using the cards and communication board, and Faeranduil repeated the name of the team, but it still didn't make sense to Reluvethel. His brother tried to clarify their role, but used several words Reluvethel didn't recognize in his explanation, so Reluvethel gave up and waved him to continue.

As he listened to Faeranduil, he tried to puzzle it out for himself. What magical team would be interested in dragons? Right, the magical reagents acquisition team! Which, come to think of it, was probably what Faeranduil had actually said. But why hadn't it made sense to Reluvethel?

Oh, right. He'd gotten a new gift yesterday. So his fears were confirmed – it must be his brother's gifts doing it.

 

Faeranduil was delighted. Reluvethel had asked for clarification when he mentioned the magical reagent acquisitions team, and it seemed like he hadn't found the explanation much help. His brother was losing his comprehension.

Soon, his brother wouldn't understand anything anyone said to him. He wouldn't be able to answer questions. He wouldn't even understand the words his cards said or what he could read on his communication board. He'd be completely unable to communicate.

And no one would ever know that all of Reluvethel's problems were preceded by strange magical gifts.


	9. Chapter 9

After lunch, Reluvethel went to speech therapy, where he discovered that he could now only make one vowel sound, 'aah'. Even the other vowels were lost to him.

He brought his two newest gifts to the healer. She checked them, but to his disappointment, she found no evidence of any spell on them. She did seem interested in what they were. The second-last gift, she said, was clearly intended to teach everyday sequences, such as how to care for yourself. The last one was a visual schedule, used to help people who needed things to be predictable.

Reluvethel tried to tell her that he was losing his comprehension, too, but he couldn't figure out how to get the message across. He didn't have the right words on his communication board or with his cards.

 

Faeranduil's afternoon was free, for the first time in awhile, so after awhile reading in the library, he decided on impulse to watch Reluvethel at his sparring practice.

He was shocked by the decline in his brother's abilities. He couldn't remember a single practice sequence – all he could do was perform the basic moves in isolation. Faeranduil had always been so far behind his brother in combat prowess that he'd basically given up in favour of magic, but now, he was finally ahead.

And then, halfway through practice, Reluvethel dropped his practice swords. When he picked them up again, suddenly, his stance and grip were wrong. The instructor tried to correct him, but he kept slipping up whenever he shifted position, and he no longer knew how to do any moves correctly. His thrust was weak and off-balance, his block was angled wrong, and when he tried to parry, he missed the sword completely.

“Aah!” He threw his sword aside and sat down, head in his hands. The instructor went to reassure Reluvethel, while Faeranduil watched in amazement. He asked the instructor what happened, and the instructor explained that every day, at this time, Reluvethel's abilities would abruptly decline.

Faeranduil listened in amazement. This was the time of day he'd given Reluvethel the everyday sequences books, and his brother had read them on the spot. And therefore, this time each day, Reluvethel would decline one step further.

He considered the other gifts. Reluvethel had presumably found the diapers when he went to bed that night, and the communication board and visual schedule had both been delivered in the night, and probably received the next morning. The only gift Faeranduil was uncertain about was the early readers – he'd put them in his brother's room after Reluvethel had gotten up. Most likely, Reluvethel had found them when he went to change his undergarment.

Was it when Faeranduil put the item in his brother's possession, or when his brother found the item that mattered?

 

After sparring practice, Reluvethel changed his soiled undergarment and went to bed, dejected. He'd lost all of his combat ability – now, he fought like a child picking up a sword for the first time. And he was losing his understanding of speech, too, and couldn't even tell anyone.

Did Faeranduil suspect it was his gifts that caused it? Why was Faeranduil making such strange gifts in the first place? Would Faeranduil figure it out and fix the damage, or was Reluvethel stuck this way?

And then a chilling thought – did Faeranduil even want to fix the damage? After all, he'd wanted the throne, and with Reluvethel's current state, he was no longer fit to rule. If Reluvethel never got better, Faeranduil's wildest dreams would come true. Had he done this deliberately?

 

The next morning, at breakfast, Faeranduil didn't see his brother. He smiled, figuring that Reluvethel was finally taking advantage of his new freedom to sleep in.

He had a good time at court that day. The most interesting event this time was a report of ‘unusually aggressive plant life’ in Islana, one of the southern provinces. The Countess of Islana, Sataleeti, seemed very concerned about it, but Faeranduil didn’t see the big deal—so they had a few plant monsters, so what? They bordered on the Blood Forest, of course they’d have plant monsters now and then.

Still, he decided to send a small contingent just to gather more information. Perhaps, like the dragons, these plants might be a good source of reagents.

 

Reluvethel couldn't bear to look his brother in the eye that morning, given his suspicions, so he ate breakfast by himself.

At reading class, he found himself having occasional difficulty understanding what his instructor was saying. He kept asking the man to clarify, and finally, the man asked: “Are you losing your ability to understand speech?”

Reluvethel nodded, relieved that someone had figured it out, and then used his cards to say “tell her”. The instructor guessed the healer, and Reluvethel nodded.

At lunchtime, Reluvethel finally decided to confront his brother.

 

That lunch, Faeranduil was glad to see Reluvethel had decided to join him. “Hey, brother. Did you sleep in?”

Reluvethel gave him a serious look and fumbled through his cards, finding the right ones, then laid them out and tapped them. “Did you do this to me.”

Faeranduil froze, shocked by the question. He immediately denied it, feigning anger and hurt at the accusation. But he could see in Reluvethel's eyes that his brother wasn't convinced.

Faeranduil was panicking inwardly for the rest of the lunch. He had to stop Reluvethel from telling anyone else his suspicions, especially his healer. He decided to take a risk, and when Reluvethel looked away from his drink for a moment, Faeranduil tipped a small vial that he carried into it. Reluvethel drank it without any suspicion.

Towards the end of the lunch hour, Reluvethel got up and suddenly collapsed. Faeranduil hastily caught him, and then got his servant to help him carry his brother back to his bedchamber to sleep it off.

 

Reluvethel awoke feeling confused. He was in his bed, his undergarment soiled and wet, and it took him a moment to realize that it wasn't morning. Disoriented, he got up and changed, trying to figure out what happened. He'd been eating lunch with his brother, and he'd accused his brother of having done this to him. Faeranduil had tried to deny it, but he knew his brother was lying, and he knew his brother knew, too. And then...

He couldn't remember anything further. A chill came over him as he realized. His brother must have put him to sleep. But why?

He heard the bells ring, and realized it was later than he thought. He'd completely missed his healer's appointment, and he'd have to hurry to avoid missing his sparring practice. With a chill, he realized that was why – his brother wanted him to miss his appointment. He didn't want Reluvethel telling the healer what he suspected.

Well, this confirmed it, didn't it? Faeranduil wouldn't have done this unless Reluvethel was close to the truth. And he didn't need to stop Reluvethel from seeing the healer altogether – just delay long enough that Reluvethel declined too far to communicate his suspicions.

 

Faeranduil spent that afternoon worrying. He'd prevented Reluvethel from telling for now, but his brother had been seeing the healer every day, lately. His servant told him that the healer had sent a man to check on Reluvethel, and he'd rebuffed the man saying that the prince had gotten tired and decided to take a nap. But she wouldn't accept that excuse next time.

Maybe if he sabotaged Reluvethel's cards? He would have to make it look like an accident, so his reading instructor wouldn't get suspicious. Or could he convince them that the illness was affecting his brother's mind?

 

Reluvethel hurried to sparring practice. Some exercise would help him focus, figure out what he needed to do about his brother.

He didn't notice any change in his fighting ability this time, though he was so terrible, it would be hard to tell. Basically all he could do was hold his sword (incorrectly) and wave it clumsily around.

He wet and soiled himself during practice, and then headed to his room to change. But when he tried to undo his belt, he fumbled. He couldn't figure out how to get it undone.

He tried hiking up his tunic and removing his breeches, but he ran into trouble with the laces. He finally called his bedservant in to help him, showing him the problem with gestures. The man removed his undergarment, commenting about how the last time he'd done this was several years ago when his youngest was 6 years old.

So he was losing the ability to dress himself. This would make life more complicated. He got the man to help remove the rest of his clothing, put on a new undergarment and went to bed.


End file.
